


Room Service

by LanJevinson



Series: Mickey Tries New Things [3]
Category: Shameless - Fandom
Genre: PWP, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7052248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanJevinson/pseuds/LanJevinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey enjoy the hotel room after their honey trap in season four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room Service

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up immediately after the scene where Mickey and Ian blackmail that closeted man at the hotel. Spoiler alert: they don't actually order room service.

After the man recovers from his knee to the balls, Mickey takes the dude down to the ATM in the lobby to empty his account and then cuts him loose, giving him the finger in lieu of a goodbye.

He's looking forward to having Ian alone in a fancy hotel room for a night.  Lately they've been in cramped quarters at the Gallaghers, and the best they've been able to do is a mutual handjob in the bathroom in the middle of the day,

Plus, he's never been in any place nicer than a flea ridden,  piss stained mattress motel before.  He'd checked out the comfort level of the mattress and the rain shower head in the bathroom to try to distract himself while Ian picked up his guy.

He's definitely gonna take advantage of those later.

When he gets back up to the room, Ian is lounging on the bed flipping channels, fully dressed again.

“How'd we make out?” Ian asks woodenly, not even sparing Mickey a glance as Mickey lingers by the dresser.

“Enough to cover the room and then some. Here's your cut.” Mickey peels off a few hundreds and several twenties and holds them out to Ian.

“Nah, you keep it,” Ian tells him nonchalantly, waving him off.

“Fuck that, you did all of the work!”

Ian shrugs.

“Next time you can be the eye candy and I'll keep the cash," he suggests without feeling.

“Yeah right,” Mickey scoffs.

Ian sits up quickly, face hard.

“What, you're too good to whore yourself out for some cash, but I'm fair game?” he spits angrily.

Mickey blanches.

“That's not- Jesus, Ian, I meant no one's gonna wanna pick _me_ up at bars to take back to hotel rooms.”

“Why not?” Ian demands.

“Because I look like me. And you look fuckin’...” he trails off awkwardly, embarrassed as he gestures to Ian's body.

Ian grins, mood abruptly changed. He sits up on his knees and crawls to the end of the bed.

Mickey can't stop his feet from shuffling closer to Ian. Ian's like a magnet. Mickey's drawn to him, and powerless to stay away.

“You saying you like the way I look, Mick?” Ian murmurs.  The sound of his voice makes Mickey's dick twitch.

Mickey rolls his eyes.

“You know how you look, man.”

“I wanna hear you say it," Ian insists lowly.

“Whatever, Narcissus.  I like the way you look, okay?”

“I turn you on?” Ian tugs his jeans down to his knees. He palms himself through his boxers.

Mickey swallows.

“Yeah,” he says. He hesitates.  Ian could definitely do better than him.  Why was he sticking around?  “D'you like the way I look?” he asks Ian, a lot less sexy and a lot more insecure. God, he's such a girl.

Ian huffs out a laugh and reaches out to grab Mickey by his hoodie strings.

“Yeah. I like the way you look.” Ian tugs Mickey forward until they're chest to chest. Mickey puts one knee on the bed to steady himself. “I like the way you taste.” Ian licks into Mickey's mouth and pulls away far too quickly for Mickey's liking. “I like the way you feel.” He reaches both hands down to squeeze Mickey's ass, hard.

Mickey groans in pleasure and hates himself for it.

“Quit the faggy shit and fuck me,” he orders Ian, shoving him with two hands back onto the bed. Ian smirks as he lands with a soft thud on his ass in the middle of the bed.  “Yeah, whatever,” Mickey grumbles before Ian can make a smart ass comment about how getting fucked by a dude is pretty faggy all by itself. “Take off your clothes.”

He's quicker about it even though he's wearing more layers.  When Ian finally tosses his boxers away, Mickey joins him on the bed, and crawls to the head of the bed, intent on hanging onto the headboard while he gets fucked hard.

"Turn this way," Ian suggests instead, motioning for Mickey to face the bathroom.  "I wanna try something."

"Like what?" The way he sees it he's still on his hands and knees, only now he's got nothing to hang on to.

"Wanna watch myself fuck you," Ian breathes, slapping his dick against Mickey's ass cheeks. Mickey turns his head to the left and sees his own horny face staring back at him.  He wouldn't mind watching Ian, but seeing himself taking it up the ass might be just a bit too much.

"Fuck no," he protests.  

"You don't have to look."  Ian grips Mickey's hips and holds him there when Mickey tries to move away. "Spit," he orders Mickey, holding out his hand. 

"Real romantic," Mickey snarks, but does as he's told.

"You wanna be wined and dined, Mick?" Ian jibes as he adds his own spit and slicks himself up. Mickey is immediately abashed.

"Just shut up and-" he hisses when Ian abruptly sheaths himself inside of him.  His dick flags for a split second.

Ian sets a slow pace.  It's nice at first, cuz it's been awhile, but spit isn't exactly great lube.

"Harder," Mickey urges, pushing his ass back and disrupting Ian's rhythm. 

"In a minute."

Ian is staring at their joined bodies in the mirror.  Mickey chances a glance at Ian's face in the reflection and can't look away.  Ian's face is screwed up into utter concentration as he watches himself pull in and out of Mickey.  

Okay, if Mickey doesn't look at his own reflection, he could get into this.  He hasn't had the chance to watch a whole lot of gay porn (he's mostly just made do with staring at the men in traditional porn) but he's instantly reminded of that time when he was twelve and he accidentally stumbled upon a porno featuring two dudes late one night on TV.  He'd gotten off embarrassingly fast and then spent the next sleep deprived week searching in vain for more at three in the morning.  

The men in that porn had been in a hotel room too.  The guy that was being pounded had raised himself onto his knees and-

Ian grunts and nearly falls out of Mickey as Mickey abruptly pushes off his hands and comes to a kneeling position. 

"Keep going," Mickey urges breathlessly.  

The angle is awkward now, but Ian puts a foot down for leverage and gives it his best effort as Mickey watches himself jerk his own dick while he gets fucked. 

Their chests are glistening with sweat, their stomach muscles working as they exert themselves.  It's fucking beautiful.

"Jesus," Mickey groans as he comes all over the bed.  

Instead of following Mickey over the edge like he usually does, Ian pulls out.

"Suck my dick?" he pants.  Mickey pulls a face.

"Fuck that, you know where it's just been?"

Ian snorts.

"In the shower then," he cajoles.  "You said you'd do it whenever I want."

"You're lucky you caught me at a weak moment," Mickey grumbles, feigning annoyance.  He probably would have done anything to keep Ian with him in that moment.

Ian grins and jumps up from the bed, leading the way into the bathroom. 

The shower is plenty big for two people, but Ian crowds into Mickey's space anyway as he leisurely kisses him underneath the warm stream of water.

Mickey hasn't showered with anyone since he was a little kid being hosed down with his brothers by his mom.  

"Maybe we should just fuck again," Ian breathes against Mickey's mouth as things heat up.

"Okay."  Mickey could go again, he thinks.  And now they have soap for a little lube.  The tile would be killer on his knees anyway.  "Harder this time though."

"Yes sir."  Ian smacks Mickey's ass hard, and the sound reverberates through the room.

  
Later, when they're lying together in the big bed, TV flickering blue shadows around the room, Mickey tells Ian quietly, “you weren't whoring yourself out. We were scamming him.”

“Yeah well, I had to make out with him in the elevator,” Ian mutters into his pillow.

Mickey scowls.  He hadn't exactly thought this one through.  He'd been desperate and he made a bad call.  He put Ian on the line.   _Fucking Svetlana_.

“We ain't doing it again,” he tells Ian firmly. He can't stop himself from carding a hand through Ian's hair. “Sorry,” he adds guiltily.

Ian turns back onto his side to face Mickey. He slings an arm around his waist. “You can make it up to me by letting me spoon you.”

“Fuck off.”

Ian laughs.

“One minute. If you hate it we'll stop.”

Mickey relents, of course, and he secretly relishes in the warmth of Ian's body against his back and the heavy line of Ian's arm against his own. Even better, he wakes up in the morning to Ian rutting against his bare ass.

He could get used to this.


End file.
